


Samhain Waltz

by MalignSensualist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, M/M, riddlecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalignSensualist/pseuds/MalignSensualist
Summary: Originally a gift drabble for a friend





	Samhain Waltz

Soft piano and lilting string hummed in the background, just beneath thrum of gossiping voices. A rumble of noise half forgotten in one corner of the grand ballroom, lit by twittering spheres of mage-light and fluttering torches. Jack-o-Lanterns glowered from doorway and window, titian sentinels sat unflinchingly at the gateways. Wards and warning to wayward, impish spirits.

                               (  _malevolent even, given the crowd accumulated here,_  
                              on this night when reality and other transcended difference,   
                                         blended at the seams customarily frigid.   
                                                     like walls of ice riddled with weakness. )

Mead, cidar, spiced spirits and the titillating scorch of cinnamon draped the air. Magic a haze in liminal existence beneath a festive, cheerily topaz moon cascading through wide windows like golden waters. Casting deep shadows against walls, spilling warmly through the silvery mingle of ghosts. Glowered deep obre against black cloaks embossed by delicate silver thread. A uniform mass that parted, shifted like mist to wind as prowling figure swept through.

**Sedate**.   
                               **Leisurely**.   
Serpentine head held high, pearlescent scale like halcyon in twilight ambiance. High necked robes, pitch to silvery-blackness, a void amid starlight. Acknowledgement granted to supplicating masses with the barest flicker of crimson eyes and dip of chin.

Stride never faltered, no matter who spoke and beckoned him near. Their Lord, their Master. Their exalted leader transcendent of humanity, immortalized in name and macabre swath brutal memory carved into genealogy of the  **u n w o r t h y**. They were as moths to the ebon flame, drawn and held at bay with one gelid glance.

They knew their place.   
                                      (  _mortals could not hope to tread the path of gods_  )

Forward procession strolled, magic and fluttering robe, until stillness overcame skeletal form, just before half-concealed visitor. An interloper in their midst.

**Unknown**. Unnamed.  **Unnamed**. Unexplained.

But favored above all others. Lavished in near-worship, like an altar before which the Dark Lord had lain faith heretofore unseen.

                           (  _excepting in the obsessive arduous love of_   **magic**  )

Hand extended, when nary a step remained between them. Hauteur staring upward at serpentine visage. Proud, undaunted by coiling magic. By threat of death that loomed, a spectre over bony shoulder. Poise held in neatly parted hair, unblemished skin, and unwavering gaze. Dark and chilled even as the Voldemort’s burned.

**§**   _Shall I drop upon knees, or will it behoove you to deign Lord Voldemort with a waltz?_ **§**

Amusement and challenge, issued with the barest dip of waist, in sibilant whisper. Incomprehensible to peons who dithered about, watching on baited breaths, tongues stayed only by flesh memory of lurid red and  _pain._

The other smiled, a pinch and curve of supple human lips. A bare flicker in eyes that twitched from guests to Voldemort. Tom Riddle held unmoved but a moment before, with the  **equanimity** of a King, he lay long, human fingers lightly within palm. Grinned without softness when long fingers curled over fragile bone.

**§**   _I suppose tonight, as you have asked so k i n d l y, I will gift you a dance._   **§**

                                             A favor of good will and agreeable mood.

Voldemort grinned and with a tug that drug Tom from shadows, twirled them about. Robes billowed obsidian undercut by verdant emerald that shimmered with brocade of gold, draped in finest thread about Tom’s shoulders.

                                                                   **A gift. An offering.**    
A display of  **benediction**  to boggle the mind.

Hand upon shoulder and waist, separated by a scant head, past and present turned about the floor. Ethereal in dichotomy, where ivory met pearl scale. Graceful in stately step that swept them about the room, heedless of fixated eyes. Of the time as it ticked by, one composition fading into another.

Faster, slower. Intimate in the lock of eyes. Intensity of mingling magic too stifling to linger near. Conversation a taunt and defiance whispered in hushed parseltongue.


End file.
